Seasons
by desmonstres
Summary: In summer, she meets a kind stranger. In fall, she learns his name. In winter, she teaches him how to make angels. In spring, they start something new.


**Seasons**

* * *

x

 **Natsu**

It's a sweltering day in Konoha when the power suddenly goes out. Sakura had been taking a mid-day nap when her air conditioning turns off, and she wakes up to find herself roasting in the increasing heat of her tiny one bedroom flat. Rolling over onto her back, she groans in annoyance before she gets up. She quickly changes into a pair of denim shorts and a loose black tank top that she messily tucks into her shorts before slamming the door shut behind her.

Across the street, there's a quaint little park. She plops down on an empty bench shaded nicely by a tree. Greedily, she leans back and sprawls her arms over the back of the wooden bench, legs stretched out in front. Her head falls back with eyes closed, and she breathes, waiting for the gust of cool air to hit her heated flesh.

It never comes. Instead her skin glistens with increased perspiration, and she can feel drops of sweat slowly disappear behind her hairline. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, but the few wisps of hair that didn't make it stick uncomfortably to the back of her neck. It's so humid, she feels like she's breathing water. And at this moment, she really wishes she could just _drink_ the air. She could really use a glass of water. Unfortunately, she doesn't have her wallet on her, and, honest to goodness, she can't even be bothered to get off this bench. She'll just suffer, she guesses. Maybe it'll spontaneously rain. Doubtful.

She's about to fall asleep when she feels something cold land on her leg. Then another. And another. Is it actually raining? It's a struggle to open her eyes. It's not raining. The skies are clear without a cloud in the sky. Then what could possibly… She feels the icy drops of water on her leg again. Finally, she pulls her head forward and glances at her leg then up at the stranger standing before her. His hand is outstretched with a perfectly chilled bottle of water in his grasp. She blinks.

"You look thirsty," he says.

He's quite handsome, she notices immediately.

"Uh…" is all she can manage. Her throat is much drier than she thought.

"Please. I insist."

She nods and takes the bottle from his hand. The cold feels good on her hot skin. She twists the cap open and empties the bottle in one go. She takes a deep breath once she's done, and her exhale feels frosty on her lips.

"Thanks," she says, giving her best smile.

He nods back. A lovely upturn of his lips makes her swoon.

When he's gone, she sighs and returns to her starfish position on the bench with her head loosely hanging off the bench. Feeling much better, she easily dozes off with a happy smile on her face all thanks to a kind stranger.

* * *

x

 **Aki**

Running had always come naturally to her. She's good at it. The moment her feet kick off the ground, she feels weightless and like she can run forever. It feels like nothing can stop her. She's invincible.

Breathe in…

...And out.

The humidity has dissipated, and the leaves are just beginning to change in Konoha. Reds and yellows and purples. Lush greens cling to summer but will soon fade to autumn. At one point on the trail, she feels like she's running through a tunnel of colors. To her, fall smells like sleep. A long slumber. A temporary farewell. It tastes of amber and gold and onyx.

Sakura breathes and keeps going. One, two, one, two. Her pink hair tied in a high pony swishes behind her with each step. Her skin shines with fresh sweat in a way that's reminiscent of hot summer days.

Her feet slow down when she reaches the peak. Surrounded by dense foliage, there's a lovely lookout point perfect for watching the sunset. A rudimentary yet sturdy fence creates a half-moon shape on the edge of the cliff. For the first time in a while, she's surprised to see a man with hair tied at the nape leaning on the fence. More often than not, this particular lookout point is empty of visitors so early in the morning. The peak time is in the late afternoon when couples and families make the climb for the sunset. It's a poor viewing spot for the sunrise, but she prefers this. She enjoys watching the sky warm up with life, transitioning so beautifully from midnight blue to tangerines and peaches and lavenders.

Hands on her hips, she walks closer to the edge and focuses on regulating her breathing. With each breath, her exposed abdomen rises and falls, her shoulders doing the same. From her front door to the lookout point is a solid twenty kilometers. The view is always stunning no matter how many times she sees it. As she steps closer, the man glances away from the scene to look at her. They make eye contact.

"We've met," she says. "You gave me your water."

He straightens out and smiles at her. "Yes."

She sticks out her hands and says, "I never got your name. I'm Sakura."

He takes her hand and replies, "Itachi."

They shake, and when she pulls her hand away, she wipes it against her shorts. "Sorry," she apologizes sheepishly. "I'm a bit sweaty."

His kind smile doesn't falter, and he goes back to watching the changing of colors in the sky. She does the same. They quietly appreciate the beauty that is swirls and wisps of various hues. When the sky is nearly all a pale blue, she breaks their silence.

"People don't usually come here for the sunrise," she says.

"No," he says smoothly, eyes still on the sky, "but I enjoy how the colors change between dawn and morning." He pushes off the ledge and straightens out when the sky completely takes on the color of a pastel blue. He turns to her and asks, "Do you come here often?"

"On most days. Sometimes I have a busy week and don't have time for the run," she says with a shrug. "And you? It's my first time seeing you here."

"Every once in a while," he says wistfully, looking out again. "When I have the time."

She nods, and they slip back into a comfortable silence. She takes some time to stretch, and he continues to look at the view.

"Hey, Itachi," she calls. He turns to look at her. "I've got to head back. It was nice seeing you again."

He nods and replies ever so politely, "The pleasure is mine."

She gives him her best smile.

And then she's off.

* * *

x

 **Fuyu**

The subway train pulls into Naka Station with a soft groan. The doors pull open, and Sakura steps out, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat. Her breath forms a white cloud when it hits the cold air, and she buries her face deeper into the warmth of her thick, red scarf.

The snow crunches under her weight, and she smiles behind her scarf. She loves the feeling of walking on fresh snow.

She cuts through the park on her way home as she always does. The snow within the fenced confines of the park is untouched and pristine. The perfect amount. Perfect for snow angels. She easily picks a spot, stands tall with arms stretched away from her body, and closes her eyes. She barely feels the impact of her fall because the snow is thick and soft. And there is the ever satisfying sound of snow crunching.

Like second nature, her arms and legs sweep up and down. She should probably regret doing this without any mittens, but she can't bring herself to do so. She's enjoying this moment too much. She reminisces on all those childhood days making snow angels without a care in the world. Even though she's much older, she still loves it. There's something cathartic about making snow angels.

Her limbs still, and she relishes in the cool air that enters her lungs and the warm air that exits. She could sleep here.

She then hears the sound of snow crunching growing louder until it stops. She opens her eyes and smiles.

"Well, hello there," she says, her voice a bit shaky.

"It's been a while," Itachi says. There is a small smile on his face.

"Would you like to join me down here?" she asks. "It's quite nice."

He chuckles. "Aren't you cold?"

She laughs, and puffs of white bloom from her lips. "A bit." She extends an arm. "Help me up?"

He gives her his hand, but the moment she has a good grip, she pulls him down. She laughs at the confused look on his face as he's on his back and blinking up at the sky.

"Come on. Live a little."

He closes his eyes and moves his arms and legs back and forth like a windshield wiper. She does the same, and her laugh is melodious to his ears. In this moment, he is content.

* * *

x

 **Haru**

Home stretch. The chair beside her is piled high with textbooks and medical journals and pages of notes. One textbook lays open on the tabletop while another on her lap. Her hand is poised with pen in hand, furiously taking notes. She clicks the pen when she finishes a thought and clicks it again when she resumes writing. It's a habit she's had since she was ten.

Intensely focused, she hardly registers the scratching sound of a wooden chair sliding against a hardwood floor. Itachi doesn't mind her lack of acknowledgment.

" _A Complete Guide to Eye Disorders and Health_. _Clinical Ophthalmology_. _An Examination of Macular Degeneration_ ," he says, reciting her reading material out loud.

She continues to scribble, unrelenting. When she clicks her pen a few minutes later, she finally looks up at him.

"I didn't know you were doctor," he says.

She winks at him. "Not yet."

She clicks her pen again and continues writing. Itachi simply folds his hands over his stomach and closes his eyes. The air is saturated with the smell of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet caramel. He can hear the sounds of shots of espresso being pulled and the milk being steamed. There's the nice lull of acoustic guitar playing in the background. He's enjoying the sound of her pen scratching against paper when he hears one last click and the shuffling of papers. He reopens his eyes to watch her pack her things. She's organized, he thinks. She stands and looks at him.

"Would you like to grab lunch? I could use a study break."

The trees are in full bloom this time of year, and an abundance of flowers decorate the ground. She walks slightly ahead of him, destination already in mind. She glances back every now and then to make sure she hasn't left him in the dust, but he's never more than half a step behind.

They stop at a local eatery. She picks up two sandwiches, two waters, and a bowl of mixed fruit. He insists on paying for his portion, but she waves it off. She leads him to a park outside a university, pulls out a large, thin sheet and places it as best as she can on the lawn. It's a deep navy color with a thick border of gold thread. She sits down, pats the space beside her for him, and sets up their lunch.

Halfway into her second bite, he says, "Thanks again for the meal. You really didn't have to."

She shrugs, swallows, and replies, "I still owed you for that water."

She glances up at him from behind her thick lashes with a smirk on her face. He smiles back. He's amused.

They make light conversation. His wit is subtle, and she laughs easily. When their meal is finished, they lie down on the sheet and watch the clouds drift on by. She tells him about her passion for medicine, and he talks about his work in the family business. They learn they both have a penchant for sweets and an aversion to cucumbers and burnt toast.

When the both of them grow quiet, she rolls over onto her side to look at him. She sees how his lashes cast a shadow on his cheeks in the afternoon sun, how deep the lines on his face are from years of overwork, how his lips curve when he's at peace. His eyes open and his head slides to the side, and he watches her watch him. She's smiling at him. He wonders what she's thinking. Then she reaches up and lightly touches her lips to his. It's short and sweet. There are no fireworks. It is not something to tell stories about to grandchildren. It's nothing much at all. She rolls back over onto her back and returns to watching the clouds.

"Spring's a good season to start something new, don't you think?" she asks.

He's still looking at her, small smile on his face, when he entwines his fingers with hers and answers her, "Yes."


End file.
